Progress Isn't Pass/Fail

Hello from Mile Marker 14,432...

It's been a while, I know.  So how to restart??

One, two, three, GO!

That's how I get out the door these days.

You have to start somewhere.  And otherwise, I'll sit there for hours, trying to get my socket "just right."  

Lately, there is no "just right."  There's only better and worse.  (At least prosthetically-speaking.)

Picture a balance scale -- the kind from science class.  Remember?

Always teetering.  Never quite still.  

This weighs on that.  Every adjustment causes another adjustment.

Maybe it's my body.   Maybe it's my prosthetic. 

 

Maybe it's my age, my activity level, my expectations.  Maybe it's just the weather or the moon's pull on the tide.

Who knows?

Whatever it is, it's a constant work in progress.

Lucky for me, my prosthetic team does not give up!

At my first appointment this week, Prosthetist Tim has just returned from a few days in Pittsburgh.  

"I've skated in Pittsburgh!" I say.  "It's a great city.  Hilly though!"

And just like that, I slip back into to my life BEFORE, like an old pair of skates I used to love.

I tell him about the miles I did -- 19, sometimes 20 at a stretch!  I tell him all the cities I covered, perfectly balanced on 8 inline wheels.

I scroll through the photos on my phone, letting those memories breathe again after all these years. 

I even find some from Bordeaux, France.  I almost forgot I'd skated there!

I was traveling on my own, but I'd heard there was a city skate on the last Sunday of each month.  

So I rented a pair of skates, and tossed them into the basket of a borrowed bicycle, and rode to the starting line.

That night, I learned to yell "cobblestones!" and "tracks!" and "turn left!" en francais.  I coasted through the stone streets with a hundred other skaters.  

I made new friends -- easily, effortlessly -- in a foreign language, on the fly.

That was ME!

It was 4 months before my accident.  

For some reason, in this challenging season, it feels important to share.  

Recently, a close friend of mine had a health scare.  

And while she struggled to get hold of it, we shared a few heart-to-hearts about what it's like to live this way -- between abled and disabled -- long term.

I told her a bit of what I've learned about the "New Normal" over the years.

About leaning into the direction of the day.

Canceling.  Rescheduling.

Adjusting my activities like the tipsy sides of a balance scale.

About doing mental somersaults to manage it all.

And celebrating the tiniest successes along the way.

Later, I am back at Prosthetic Innovations for a second appointment.

Another casting, another test socket.

This time, Intern Emma
has a go at it too!

The fit will be slightly different, the suspension finely-tuned.  Hopefully more dialed into my needs.

We're not exactly starting over.  We're just trying to make progress.

Progress and hope aren't that far apart.  

Hope can tip the scale too.

When I began this journey during my recovery, I measured myself against the skater I used to be. 

She was fast and agile, energetic and productive.  

She thought her life was challenging -- and I guess it was, in its own way.

In those early blogposts, you can see it clear as day. 

Especially at Mile 60.

My goal was to get back there.  

To BE her again.  

Anything less would be.... Well, it wouldn't be enough.

There's nothing wrong with that lofty goal.  I admire it, really! 

But in 14,432 miles, I've realized something:

Progress isn't pass/fail.  

(If it were, I'd never get anywhere!)  

Progress is small steps.  Improvement by degrees.  It's pushing onward, no matter what. 

And on a challenging day, it's whatever gets you out the door.

One, two, three, GO!

Congratulations!

That's progress.

Walk on,
Rebecca